


But He Stays Down, With His Demons

by malib000



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Drug Use, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mentions of miscarriage, Miscarriage, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Harm, Toxic Relationship, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, brief mentions of smut, mentions of self harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2018-11-02 08:24:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10940664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malib000/pseuds/malib000
Summary: There was one dimension you dreamt of, one you had hoped and prayed existed.AU - Your deteriorating and toxic relationship with Rick leads you to search for alternate dimensions - the possibility of a dimension where you had the happy ending you longed for.(Morty/Summer/Beth and Jerry do not exist. Will feature Evil Rick, but Evil Morty does not exist. This story is going to hopefully get seriously dark, hopefully it will make sense)





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't ever written for Rick & Morty, so please be gentle on me. Hopefully this made sense, I just wanted to give a little bit of back story..and ended up with 2,000+ words of random, fragmented back story that I'm not entirely happy with but heyyy..

You knew about the other dimensions - the parallel universes, infinite realities, infinite possibilities. Rick had talked about them during the early days, before you understood who he was, what he was capable of. You had asked questions, silly questions that had caused him to roll his eyes and snort sarcastic remarks, his fingers all the while moving across tools and items you had never seen before. You had pestered him to tell you more and sometimes he would give you little glimpses into his knowledge, tiny fragments of his unfathomable wealth of understanding and you would sit, in awe, eyes glued to him as he spoke. 

You had begged him to show you. Promised on your life, on your family’s lives, that you wouldn’t touch anything; that you wouldn’t mess it up, and you had cringed at how much you sounded like a child. How pathetically childish and uneducated you must have come across to him. But he had sighed; throwing his long limbs in front of him and heaved himself from the sofa he was splayed across. 

‘Al-eeuugh-right, but-but you can’t fuck with this shit, it’s-it’s pretty fucking sensitive stuff ok?’ He had moved, swiftly across the small garage and you had nodded, rapidly, blurting promises that you would do whatever he told you to do. 

‘Y-You know if you…If you fuck it up, I’ll have to leave you there, go find another-another version of you. Swap you out.’ A weak laugh fell from you, a small breathy sound, he was joking right? You stared nervously at him, his eyes were dark and unreadable and for a moment, a fleeting second, you wondered whether this was all a big mistake. A sudden wave of panic flooded through you. But then he was swigging from his hip-flask, and telling you to lighten up already and you felt yourself releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

‘Y-You ready?’ Rick had asked, and you were sure he was joking, because surely he wasn’t going to take you now. You had assumed it would take weeks, months, maybe years of begging him before he would agree. But then you remembered this was Rick, crazy and unfathomable. And you had nodded, a heady wave of anxiety and adrenaline coursing through you. 

And then he was pointing the portal gun, as if he were aiming it, his finger squeezed the trigger and a brilliant, blinding whirl of green and dazzling light appeared before you. 

He grabbed at your arm, his long fingers wrapping around your wrist and somehow you had fumbled around quickly enough to intertwine your fingers. And then his legs were moving at a pace far faster than your own and you were tumbling, blistering wind ripping the breath from your lungs. 

You gripped desperately onto Rick’s hand, the bones of his knuckles biting into your fingertips as you stumbled, your legs moving against the strange force pushing against you. And then suddenly, you were stepping out onto green grass, and the sunlight hit your skin, flooding your body with warmth. 

You spun, still clutching Rick’s hand, a smile stretching out across your face. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

After that day, your mind had whirred, thoughts chased around inside your head, so many unanswered questions. So many things you wanted to know, wanted to understand. 

You would admit, Rick’s choice of dimension was not what you had in mind. In fact, you had tried to hide your disappointment, but your obvious sighs and disapproving glares only served to heighten his laughter. He had taken you to a dimension where you had a twin, and apparently they were both incredibly infatuated with the older man. 

You shook your head, trying to block out the strange and heady mixture of arousal and burning jealously that had coursed through you, trying to block out just how smug he had looked with the twin versions of you draping their bodies over his. You tried to push the bitter feeling further within you. They were you, just in another dimension, you told yourself trying to ease the strange feeling of rejection and sullenness. But still your mind wandered back; images of tangled limbs seeping into your thoughts. 

You couldn’t remember the last time he had looked at you the way he looked at those versions of you, a raw, dark gaze that scanned both of their twin frames, before pulling the closest towards him. His long fingers had wrapped around her small wrist, tugging her into his lap.

His lips had worked their way along their necks, biting and bruising, before flicking his tongue swiftly across the delicate flesh and making his way further down each of their bodies. His hands seemed to search every part of them, as if he were searching for something new, or as if he were exploring their bodies for the first time. 

It had made you sick. Your stomach had churned and twisted, watching the older man tease and flirt, bite and push, swear as he tangled his fingers in their hair and forced himself further inside, his moans still seemed to echo tauntingly in your mind. 

A few times, he had glanced up, his dark eyes locking onto you, a smirk playing on his lips and you had felt your stomach churn uncomfortably, bile rising in your throat, your mind racing through thoughts, trying to remember the last time he had touched you or held you. Trying to remember the last time he had pressed his lips to yours, or pulled you close to his body. The last time his words had been anything other than cynical and bored, stuttered sentences drenched in bitterness.

You shook your head, forcing your mind to focus on anything but those memories. It wasn’t like he hadn’t asked you to join; you reassured yourself, releasing a deep sigh. Your chest ached, as if a weight were pressing against it. You felt small, pathetic and inane. 

But Rick had that effect on you. 

The man somehow possessed the ability to make you feel as though you were soaring, flying as high as a kite, with his fingers tracing gently against your skin, your body tingling with each teasing scratch. He made you feel alive, adrenaline and endorphins pumping and hurtling through you each and every time he pulled you close to him, the intoxicating scent of alcohol making your head swim, as his hips moved against yours. Your body felt as though electricity was coursing though you every time your name fell so effortlessly from his lips.

But then, then he would bring you crashing, plunging and stumbling to the ground. 

He would push you away, shrug you off, shut you out. Days would blur into weeks. Nights spent trying to tug at his shirt, begging him to come and wrap himself around you, pouting your lips, only to be met with his snipping words that cut into you. His eyes would grow dark and he would stand, suddenly, his chair clattering back behind him, as he raked his hands through his hair. He would turn, his tall frame looming over you and that familiar sinking feeling would set in as you shrunk backwards. He would tell you to get out, swigging deeply from his flask and for a second you would try to argue against him, try and beg him for attention, before surrendering to the realisation that it was hopeless. 

You couldn’t explain your relationship with Rick. Your family and friends, they didn’t understand. Your friends grew worried, watching as you spent less time with them, slowly forgetting to return calls or respond to messages. Instead, you spent your time chasing after him. 

You were a student when you met him. You studied art and worked in a dive of a bar. He had laughed, outright laughed, when you told him you were an artist. You had rolled your eyes and moved along the empty bar. But then he spoke of artists and musicians, of places far from earth, where you could paint with the ash of dying stars and you had sat, in awe, captivated. Stuttering and slurring, but you didn’t doubt for a second that he was speaking anything but the truth, speaking words, which painted their own vivid masterpieces. He didn’t speak with any air of romance, instead he spoke with facts and statements that were backed with raw passion and a crazy glint in his dark eyes. 

Before you knew what was happening you were tumbling through the door of your apartment, your mouths clashing hungrily against one another’s. His liquor lingering on your lips, as expert fingers worked their way along your shirt, latching around the clasps of your bra. He had pushed you through your apartment, towards your bedroom. His eyes working their way along your body, dark and hooded, a shudder of anticipation and arousal had crept through you as he growled your name. Your hands had gripped desperately to his lean frame, pulling his body over yours. 

You had been surprised at how toned his body was, sure he was older, but his thin frame had not suggested the defined form beneath his clothes. Your fingers had briefly traced over the jagged litter of scars that were laced across his body. Knots of scar tissue, uneven in size and shape. Your remember the feeling of your stomach dropping, the realisation that you knew nothing about the older man creeping into your thoughts. But it had been as if he could read your mind, or at least that he was capable of turning your attention back to the current situation, twisting and licking parts of you that elicited moans and whimpers to fall from your lips. 

Later, you would learn the stories behind most of those scars. Over time he would tell you almost every story that had led to him being swiped or shot at. You would wince and grimace, not wanting to acknowledge those parts of his life. 

It was as if Rick had been able to read you like a book. It was as if he could see right through you and sometimes you wondered why he didn’t just chose to look straight through you, sometimes you wondered what it was that made him stop and pause for a second. 

Those early days were spent with his body pressed against yours, whenever he got a moment to pull you against him he would. His breath ghosting across your skin, as you repeated his name, like some sort of mantra. 

But then time passed, and he drank more than he did before. He grew agitated with your conversation, bored of your touch. He spent his time chasing highs and alternate versions of you in other dimensions, while you found yourself awake, curled up, your chest heaving with heavy wracked sobs that seemed to rip from you. The realisation hitting you, like a punch to the gut. The realisation that you had fallen so deeply into a pit of twisted, dark obsession with a man who didn’t seem to feel a thing for you. 

You soon realised that, to Rick, you were dispensable. You were replaceable. 

And that was when you decided you had to find out.

You had thought about it. You had let those sneaking thoughts crawl and tease at the corners of your mind. But you had swatted at them, pushing them back into the darkness, telling yourself not to be so stupid. If Rick found out, he would kill you. Or worse, he would leave you. 

You would lose the small amount of trust you had built from the older man and that send a sluggish chill down your spine. So you had shook the thoughts, buried them deep and forced yourself to pretend like you didn’t question the other realities. 

But then, one day, he was out. And you were waiting patiently for him to return. And the portal gun was sat, just inches away from you. And your fingers had crawled across the desk, running along the cool metal of the whirring machine. You had chewed nervously at your bottom lip, clutching the machine and pulling it towards you. 

You had seen Rick programme it, you had memorised how it worked, how to get to certain places, how to programme certain dimensions. You were sure you knew what you were doing. 

And so your fingers had drummed against the screen, tapping and scrolling, until you came to the one you were sure was correct.

The blinding, bright, stunning green had appeared on the wall and with one quick glance over your shoulder, you stepped inside the portal.


	2. Now If I keep My Eyes Closed, He Looks Just Like You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took longer than I expected to write. Any feedback is welcome. Hopefully this makes sense, idk...hopefully it isn't terrible haha.

You stumbled, your stomach heaving, lurching as your body lunged forwards. Your head felt as though it were trapped in a vice, your cheeks splashed with tears as panic began to flood through you. This was a mistake. Something had gone wrong. You tried desperately to raise your hand against the brilliant brightness. 

But then, as quick as it had begun, it was over. Your eyes seared against the sudden flash of lime green and you hurtled forwards, stumbling and tripping. You snapped your arms out instinctively, in an attempt to break your fall. You felt the cool, sharp gravel scuffing and scratching at the skin of your palms and you winced in pain. 

You heaved your body from the ground, taking in desperate gulps of air. 

Where were you?

Small, neat rows of suburban houses lined the street, you didn’t recognise them. It was dusk and the diminishing sunlight bounced between the houses, casting long shadows. You shielded your eyes against low hanging sun, glancing desperately around you. 

Birds chirped and the sound of laughter and children playing carried through the air. 

You began to walk, suddenly aware of the searing burn in your left ankle. You cursed under your breath, checking your palms and flicking at the gravel, which had embedded itself into your soft, broken flesh. 

 

You walked for a while, unsure of where you were going, trying your best to subdue the rising panic that was beginning to bubble within you. You should turn back, cast a portal back to home and pray that Rick never found out about this. You were such an idiot. You were lost in another dimension, literally. You cursed under your breath. You wouldn’t even be able to tell him a funny story, give him some neat new alien pet or tell him about some new inter-galactic twins he might be interested in. 

And that - that was when it suddenly clicked. You stared, mouth dropping silently open, you recognised the street name, memories beginning to seep slowly back into your mind. Rick had taken you here, a long time ago. Not to this dimension, but this street, in your own dimension. He had been drunk, stumbling and rambling about living here - something about how he had lived here a long time ago. 

You had been tired and agitated by the detour that Rick had insisted you make on your way home. You remember watching as he stumbled forwards towards one of the houses, slurring and swearing. You had tugged at his lab coat, attempting to pull him back to the car before someone noticed the seemingly deranged man, but he had pushed you back, causing you to stumble. You had watched as he raised the bottle he was swigging from, bringing it up into the air and then, in a sudden burst of anger, brought it crashing down to the ground. Glass had splintered, shards spitting out in every direction and you had cowered back, shielding your eyes. 

He had turned, and you remember the fear that crept through you as you stared into the dark depths of his eyes. Those eyes, that seemed to bore into you, devoid of love and nurture, but instead filled with hidden murky pits of sorrow and an indescribable rage. His voice had been a growl, telling you to get back in the car and your voice had cracked around his name, your body trembling. 

It was times like those, times where Rick was so unpredictable, so out of character, so lacking in that sickening charm and suffocating confidence, that the painful reminder of how little you knew about the older man forced their way into your mind, tugging at your thoughts and wrenching at your heart. 

You shook your head, pulling yourself back to the present and forcing the memory deeper within your mind, burying it. 

You had become a pro at doing so. 

Your eyes scanned the houses; each one looked so similar, each one vaguely familiar. You sighed, running a hand through your hair, perhaps this was useless. 

But then, a car pulled into a driveway and you froze, your eyes glued to the figure in the drivers seat. 

You darted, ducking down beside a bush, out of sight, and waited for the young woman to step out of her car, listening to the soft tap of her heels against the pebbled path towards the door. You heart stammered inside your chest. 

It was you. 

It had been you. 

You snuck, following the shrubbery around to the back of the house. 

You paused for a moment, catching your breath and pushing the niggling question of whether this was the dumbest idea you had ever conceived further and deeper inside you. 

You had made it this far. 

You weren’t about to back now. 

You sat, crouched in the back yard for what felt like an eternity, waiting patiently for just a glimpse of the woman – you - the other version of you. 

Finally, she walked into the kitchen, flicking the light on. 

Your breath seemed to catch in your throat. 

You didn’t look any older, but instead more mature. Your hair was styled differently. As apposed to your short, messy bob, it was pinned neatly in a bun. You were dressed in burgundy top and a necklace caught the light every now and then, shimmering and glistening. 

You snuck closer, holding your breath as you pushed quietly through the garden, eyes snapping between the floor and the window. The back door was open, and you could make out voices. You ducked, sitting below the window. 

The first voice belonged to you, you couldn’t help but cringe at it, even in another dimension. The second, the second was unmistakably Rick’s. Except, there was something…something different. It was still the rough drawl that you loved, but he didn’t seem to slur or stutter on his words. Burps and belches didn’t interject or punctuate sentences. His voice seemed almost composed and you desperately longed to stand and grasp a glimpse of him. 

You weren’t sure what they were talking about, but you could hear laughter, both of you - both of them - both of whoever they were. They were laughing, and the sound of their laughter seemed to flow through the heavy, summer night air and wrap itself around you.

You had never heard Rick laugh like that. 

You had never heard his voice so lacking in sarcasm or lacking in the usual bitterness that laced its way around each syllable he snapped. 

You had never heard him sound so happy. 

You waited, patiently, until the voices faded and you were sure that both yourself and Rick had left the room. You carefully raised your head, scanning the kitchen; it was empty. And then, before you had any idea of what you were doing, your hand was reaching out and grasping at the door handle. Your heart felt as though it might explode, racing against your ribs. What were you doing? Your brain seemed to scream at your body, willing it to stop and realise how much of a giant fucking mess you were about to get yourself into, but your legs seemed to insist, and your arms seemed to take on a life of their own as you carefully pulled the door slightly further open, enough to let your small frame slip inside. 

And then you were standing in the kitchen and your stomach seemed to knot and unknot, twist and untwist, the remains of your breakfast performing somersaults. 

You slipped, as carefully and as silently as you could. You paused, listening to the sounds of their voices coming from the dining room. You, the other dimensional version of you, was asking him how his day had been, asking him to tell you what had happened at work. You continued down the hall, towards their bedroom. Your fist was clenched tightly around the portal gun, your palms clammy and still burning from the fall. 

There were three doors, the one at the end of the hall was a bathroom and the other two, you assumed were bedrooms, or perhaps Rick had an office for his work? You wondered whether he was still a scientist in this dimension. Was he working on a portal gun? If they caught you, would they have any comprehension of who you were? Would they believe you if you told them you had travelled from another dimension?

You pushed, gently, at the first door, holding your breath, your lungs screaming for air, praying that it didn’t squeak or creak. It softly fell open to reveal a small bedroom. A double bed, neatly made, with sheets that matched the curtains and pillows - domesticated bliss. The fading sunlight cast an orange haze around the room and you slipped quietly inside. 

There was a dresser on one side and your legs seemed to move instinctively towards it. Neatly organised bottles of perfume and makeup stood proudly next to a jewellery box, but you didn’t have time to take in the smaller details as your eyes jumped to the array of picture frames that lined the dresser. 

Suddenly, your breath seemed to leave your body in a silent sob as you stared down at the smiling faces. Two faces you recognised, and a third. Rick, You and a young child. A small, tiny little child, no older than two or three years, with a gummy smile and chubby cheeks. You wanted to fool yourself into believing he was a nephew, but beside it sat a photo of you, in a hospital bed, tired and dishevelled hair, holding a small baby in your arms. Beside that, a photo of Rick, a wide smile stretched across his face, his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, hair as wild and unruly as it was in your own dimension, holding that very same small baby. 

You clamped your hand over your mouth, as a sob threatened to escape, steadying yourself against the dresser as hot, salty tears burned at your eyes and began to tumble down your cheeks. 

Your fingertips ghosted across the silver frames, another held a photo of you in a long, flowing white dress. You were beaming, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and flashing a brilliant diamond ring at the camera. The one beside that was of both you and Rick. You were wearing that same beautiful dress; he was dressed in a tuxedo. His usually unruly hair was slicked neatly back. His arm was wrapped tightly around your waist and you were sure he must have been laughing because you could make out the tiny creases beside his eyes that appeared when he laughed at some inter-galactic television show or when he spent time with Birdperson or Squanchy. 

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, drawing a deep breath and steadying yourself. You let your mind drift, imagining just for a moment what it would be like to have this life. You let your mind swim and whir with thoughts of Rick, his laughter echoing down the hall. You longed to feel his touch, to feel his body against yours. You wanted nothing more than to look into his eyes and see them filled with anything other than that all-consuming darkness. To feel his lips against yours without the bitter sting of liquor lingering. You would do anything. 

You suddenly became aware of just how long you had been stood, staring down at the photos. You heard the sound of movement coming from down the hall and swiftly, your body twitched and your brain snapped back to reality, or the other dimensional-reality that you were in. Your eyes scanned the room, looking for an escape other than back through the hallway.

The window - It would be easier to slide out of there, you thought. Your heart hammered against the inside of your chest, the panic flooding quickly through you once more. Crossing the room and carefully pulling at the latches, you eased it open, carefully ensuring that you didn’t make any noise, pausing when you felt it resist and threaten to creak and give you away.

Finally, you felt the night air push around you and you pulled your body up. You slipped, silently, ducking back down and carefully tugging the window closed behind you. 

It was darker now, still light enough that you could make your way back across the garden and creep around to the front of the house, but dark enough that you didn’t have to be as cautious. 

You swallowed around a lump you didn’t realise had formed in your throat, brushing at the tears that still trailed down your cheeks. How were their lives so perfect? Why did she get a Rick that laughed and held her? Why did she get a beautiful baby and a Rick that’s eyes were filled with pride and happiness? 

You blinked furiously around the tears, which threatened to spill down your cheeks. What had happened to your Rick that had turned him into the cynical, beaten down old scientist who found solace at the bottom of a glass? 

But then you didn’t have time to consider anything else as a sudden flash of brilliant bright green caused you to turn suddenly, sucking in the cool night air in a sharp breath that seemed to burn at your lungs. You weren’t sure how you didn’t scream, the mix of shock and adrenaline pumping through your small frame seemed to tie your tongue into knots, instead you backed, stumbling and tripping, into the furthest corner of the dark garden. 

How had he found you? 

How had he travelled here if you had the portal gun? 

‘There’s no point trying to hide,’ you felt your hands trembling, desperately grasping around the portal gun. His voice was different, steadier, and lower and you felt your heart stammering. 

‘You can’t hide from me anymore,’ He stepped forward, his long limbs effortlessly gliding over to where you sat, scrambling in the dirt, palms, torn and bleeding, grasping for purchase. 

His shadow loomed, thin and long across the garden.

‘I wonder what C-137 would make of this,’ he laughed, and a shudder crept sluggishly along your spine. 

You didn’t recognise that laugh. 

It was empty, hollow and dark. The fading light caught his features, and suddenly the shadowy face of the man you knew, the man you trusted, was revealed to you. 

A pathetic whimper escaped from you as you took in the jagged, angry scar that cut vertically through his lips. Bags hung, heavily, from his eyes, which seem to bulge from the sockets, cutting through you. 

His lab coat was torn, ripped and covered in stains, mingled blotches of grease and dark, dirty brown crimson stains that made your breath hitch and shudder back down within you. 

‘I think,’ he leant forwards, and you could feel his breath dancing across your face, you turned, wincing, ‘I think he’s going to be pretty angry, don’t you?’ He smirked and you tried to scramble further from the lurching figure. 

And suddenly, he was grabbing at your arms, long, thin fingers wrapping tightly around you, nails seeming to bite at your skin. A yelp, pathetic and small escaped from you, as he pulled you to your feet. 

He snatched the portal gun from you, watching as you grasped desperately, pleading and begging. He paused for a moment, and for a second, one tiny, fleeting second you prayed that he might hand it back, but instead, you watched as he dropped it to the ground. He drew something from his belt, pointing it at the portal gun. He turned to you, his eyes hooded and dark, a menacing smirk played its way across his face as he suddenly pulled the trigger, a blinding flash of blue light cut through the air. 

And then, before you were able to process the molten pile of metal and glass that was the portal gun, he shot his own portal gun and you felt the sudden rush of the cold, blistering air of the open portal. 

‘Or maybe C-137 won’t ever find out about this.’ His laugh was loud then, ringing around inside your ears as you desperately tried to claw your way from his grip. But his fingers were like a vice around your small wrist and his strength was too much and before you were able to resist any further he was pulling you effortlessly through the portal. Your head swam, a million thoughts suddenly racing through you as you felt yourself being pulled into the blinding light. 

And then, your vision seemed to falter, blurring, as dark edges seemed to creep and crawl around the blinding green. You tried to kick, push or pull, but his grip seemed to grow tighter. You gasped for air, your lungs screaming, your mind frantically trying to comprehend what was happening.

And then there was darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this doesn't make sense please let me know. It makes sense to me because I know what is going to happen later in the story, but please do let me know if its just a pile of weird waffle.

Intermittent, broken slurs of sound were sliced suddenly by the piercing sound of your screams; screams that felt as though they were being ripped from within you. Your ears rang, your heart thumping heavily inside your chest, as you clawed desperately at the darkness, fighting with all your might against the vice-like hands, which gripped tightly around you. 

And then suddenly your body lurched forwards, the iron grip releasing you. Your body fell, against stone cold, callous concrete and you let out a sudden shriek of pain, your already broken and torn skin searing as it skidded and scuffed. You scampered backwards, your eyes searching desperately around the dark, dank room.

But all you could seem to focus on was the tall, looming figure. He moved swiftly, one quick sudden movement. You attempted to kick at him, but he was strong and quick. His fingers tangled in your hair, jerking your head back. You let out a sudden, ear-piercing scream, which seemed to ricochet around the darkness, as a fiery pain surged through you. He knelt down, yanking your head backwards. A string of whimpers and sobs fell from your mouth, begging and pleading. Tears splashed, hot and salty. Your neck twisted and contorted so that you couldn’t help but stare desperately into his eyes; those dark eyes. 

His face was unreadable, his jaw clenched, his eyes working their way across your face. 

‘Please,’ you whimpered, a spluttered, desperate plea, followed by another, your voice breaking as waves of pain crashed over you. 

And for a second, a fleeting, brief second his fingers uncurled, releasing you. You desperately drew in a shaking breath. But then, his lips twisted into a cruel smirk, his tongue flicking across the jagged crimson scar that split through his lip, before biting his lip between his teeth. His fingers curled back, tightly into your hair and his other hand grasped your jaw, nails dragging across the soft flesh of your face. Your heart pounded, unrelenting, inside you, your stomach churned as every possible thought and question whirred through your mind. 

What did he want?

What was he going to do to you?

He held you there for what felt like an eternity. His eyes, dark and wide and bulging, burned into your skin. He looked so much like Rick, identical in features, but at the same time he was almost entirely different. The wild craziness of your Rick’s grin was replaced with a deranged and sick smirk; the dark depths of your own Rick’s eyes, the depths you longed to swim within, longed to understand were replaced with a wild, petrifying darkness, a vile and perverse satisfaction seemed to cross his features as he looked down on you. 

‘Stand,’ he growled, his teeth gritted, but his tone was not one of anger, but almost some twisted and perverted arousal. 

You were frozen, your body a trembling, weak mess and before you had time to beg your muscles to react, he reached out, his slim, thin fingers wrapping tightly around your throat. You choked, spluttering, as he effortlessly pulled your body upwards, his hand clenched tightly around your windpipe. 

‘I could kill you, right now, like this,’ his tongue flicked out, running across his lips, his voice low and steady and you let out a pathetic whimper, ‘C-137 would never find you,’ he paused, leaning closer to you, ‘I could make you disappear.’ 

Your vision blurred, that familiar darkness prowling around the corners of your vision, threatening to suffocate you once more. You were running out of air, his hand still wrapped tightly around your small neck. You were going to suffocate. You were going to die. And panic coursed through you, desperate spluttered sobs and gasps for air seemed only to make the sick smirk grow larger. 

And then, just as your vision blurred and shifted, the darkness closing in on you, his grip loosened and you drew a swift, heavy breath into your screaming lungs. His fingers remained wrapped around your neck, calloused fingertips stroking almost gently at the bruised purple flesh, before finally, he released you. 

Your knees seemed to buckle beneath you, steadying yourself against the wall behind you, desperate not to fall back down to the ground, you drew deep, shaking breaths. 

Swiftly, he drew something from his pocket, placing it at the nape of your neck, his hand covering your mouth, as you tried to protest. His fingers worked their way into your mouth, as you tried, once again, to struggle away from him. He let out a lewd moan as your tongue swiped across his fingers, and you felt your stomach twist uncomfortably at the sound. You felt the cool sting of the metal device biting at your skin, and then a sudden jolt, a burst of pain, a sharp bolt of electricity surged through you and your eyes rolled heavily in their sockets. Your brain chased desperately at the thoughts that seemed to be fleeing from you, like birds from a cage. You slurred and mumbled, your eyes closing heavily, tired and aching, as your body slumped forwards.

He held you, your weak, seemingly lifeless body, propped against the wall. He waited, running his tongue along his teeth, his jaw clenching, before tucking the device back inside his pocket and slinging your body over his arms. 

 

\------------------------  
Something deep within your subconscious nagged at you. Pestered and pleaded, trying hopelessly to get your attention, to make you realise that this was not reality. You were dreaming, and part of you knew that, but the other part drifted slowly through the tangled web of memories, tinged with fantasy. 

You drifted through thoughts of home, family and friends, before settling on a one particular memory; a memory of him – Rick - Your Rick. 

You were pulled against him, his body tightly pressed against yours, in some backstreet club. Dark and crowded, the music seemed to course through you, the heavy thud of the bass reverberating through your body. His hands were on your waist, holding you against him. The lingering scent of alcohol and sweat and him. 

But then you were being pulled through a sea of bodies, towards the exit of the club. His fingers were laced tightly with yours. He walked swiftly, parting the swarms of dancing laughter. You tried your hardest to keep up, feeling him tug at your arm every now and then as you became tangled within the sea of movement. 

Finally, you were outside, and the cool night air bit at your skin. He turned to you, the streetlights illuminating his face. His eyes glinted in the darkness, that crazy, wild glint. He cast a portal, stepping effortlessly through it and tugged at your arm. And you followed. Because you would always follow.

A sky, illuminated with the lights of a million stars hung above you. You gazed up at the vast swirls of brilliant colours, every colour imaginable. Occasionally, a blinding streak of white light would bounce across the sky. You weren’t on Earth. Earth was a thousand light-years away, or so it seemed. Your body was nestled within the towering blades of grass; his body against yours, warm and heavy. His long limbs stretched out in front of him. 

You had been talking, about nothing and about everything. Conversation spilling effortlessly between the two of you. He was telling you about the inhabitants of the planet, and you were asking questions, begging him to let you meet them. He had laughed.

‘No chance, next thing you kn-eeuurgh-ow, they’ll-they’ll be worshipping you and I’ll be some slave to a ruling class of females, with-with my only necessary function being to provide you with-provide you with sex.’ 

You laughed, nudging your elbow into him. 

‘Isn’t that already your purpose?’ You retorted, a smirk spreading across your lips. His eyebrows rose, feigning a mix of shock and horror at your comments. 

‘My o-only purpose is to have sex with you?' You nodded, crossing your arms across your chest, defiantly. 

He pulled you against him, his lips crashing against yours, hungrily at first, but slowly settling into a lazy, warm kiss, his fingers tracing along the sides of your body, a heat growing within you with each touch. Your bodies moved against one another’s, slipping into the familiar rhythm that you both knew so well. He pulled you closer to him and you pressed your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar mix of liquor and musk, tinged with sweat and cigarettes. Rick. 

But then he stopped, his eyes staring into yours. He pulled back, suddenly, violently. His smirk seemed to twist and contort, and you felt a sudden, sickening panic rising within you. 

‘Rick?’ Your voice was nothing more than a whimper, as you watched him recoil back. His hands seemed to claw at his skin and you desperately grabbed at him, ‘Rick, please! You’re scaring me!’ Your voice was louder then, a desperate plea. A futile, pathetic plea. 

His body seemed to convulse around the force taking hold of him and you scampered back, grabbing at the grass. He snapped his neck from side to side, a cracking sound cutting through the air. And then, just as you were sure this was nothing more than a nightmare, nothing more than a twisted dream, his body lurched over yours, his hands pinning you down, trapping you beneath him. His face snapped upwards and suddenly you became only too aware that you were no longer nestled in that warm, tall grass, but instead you were seated, your hands bound behind you; you were no longer staring at the wondrous skies of some far off galaxy, but rather an artificial, blinding light hung above you. And then, the most disturbing of all realisations, a realisation that seemed to twist within you like a knife, forcing a whimper to fall from your lips. The scar. That jagged, ugly scar. 

And then there was no fooling yourself, no silly mind games or attempts to flee from this reality. You were awake. 

\------------------------ 

‘I could kill you, right now, like this,’ his threats echoed within your mind as you watched him make his way towards you. Perhaps, you thought, perhaps it would be easier if he had killed you. Perhaps it would had been quick, swift and painless – an end to this torturous nightmare. 

He prowled closer to you and you instinctively shrunk further back against the chair, your heart seeming to stutter and stammer with each long stride, ‘C-137’s play toy,’ he mocked, those scarred lips twisting. You winced, disgust and rage bubbled in the pit of your stomach, but it was spiked with fear. His eyes were littered with red veins, his body so close you could feel his breath dancing across your skin. 

‘Who-who are you?’ You stammered, and flinched as he swiftly stood upright, his body towering over your. For a second his eyes were wide and wild and then he let out a loud bark of a laugh. 

‘Who am I? You really are dumb,’ he lurked closer to you, he seemed taller than your Rick, thinner, his limbs seemed gangly and the bags under his eyes make him look older, ‘you’re the one hopping from dimension to dimension, sniffing around some other Rick’s asshole family and then you’re surprised when you meet one of us?’ 

‘What do you want from me then?’ Your voice was desperate and you were sure you would have cringe at how pathetic you sounded, but instead your brain tripped and stammered over the thousands of questions and possibilities. 

‘I don’t want anything from you,’ his voice was laced with disgust and he almost spat the final word, ‘You see, C-137 and me, we had…How do I put this?’ His long, skeletal hands made a rolling motion in the air, ‘An arrangement?’ His dark eyes seemed to glint, ‘An arrangement that goes against the rules set out by the council and C-137, well he’s no stickler for the rules, but he’s not as smart as he likes to think he is,’ he paused, his eyes scanning over you, ‘He needed me.’ He smirked, baring his stained teeth. A shudder worked its way along your spine as you swallowed thickly around the lump, which had lodged itself in your throat. 

‘You see, C-137 and me, we’re not like other Ricks. We don’t enjoy their rules; we don’t like to participate in their authoritarian games. So we broke away from the council.’ You watched as he lent backwards, almost casually, leaning against one of the whirring machines, ‘They were of no use to me, and C-137, he pretends like he’s the all-knowing, genius, but really, he just followed suit,’ he examined his hand for a moment, as if bored of the conversation, ‘Things worked well, we went our separate ways, etcetera, etcetera,’ he rolled his eyes, ‘I mean, it’s easy to hide from yourself when you know exactly where you would look, but then C-137, he became foolish, sloppy,’ he paused, his eyes seeming to bore into you, wild and dark, ‘he became weak. You made him weak.’ 

You were silent then, not only out of paralysing fear, but the shock and confusion. 

What did he mean?

How could you have ever made Rick weak? 

You didn’t have to consider the question for long, reading your features, he let out that manic, bark of a laugh, his head snapping back. 

‘You want to know how, how in any fathomable, possible dimension you made him weak, don’t you?’ He didn’t wait for you to respond, ‘its simple - the weak old bastard, he fell in love with you.’ Your mouth opened and closed, your lips trembling, ‘except,’ he paused, letting out another laugh, you felt a strange mix of rage and embarrassment gurgling within you, ‘he didn’t fall in love with you, no,’ he stepped closer, so close your hairs stood on end as his breath ghosted across your cold skin, ‘no, you were just the poor, silly little version of you he found in some other dimension, after he’d already killed you in his.’ 

Your heart seemed to stop, seemed to grind to a halt within you, your vision blurring, his words ringing inside your head, his smirk seemed to be carved into the back of your eyelids as you blinked furiously around the searing tears. 

‘C-137, he doesn’t belong in your dimension, no more than you would belong in his, no more than you belonged in that god-awful mother-fucking dimension I found you in. You see, you can travel between dimensions, that’s not a problem, but to stay in another dimension other than your own? Big problem. But our arrangement, it bought him time, I bought him cover from the council,’ he paused, running a calloused finger along your trembling lip, ‘but time is up,’ You jumped as his voice momentarily rose, before resuming its spine-chilling calmness, ‘and so it is time that C-137 died.’


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me a lot longer to write than expected. I had to toy around with a lot of ideas for future chapters. Please let me know what you think of this story so far, any feedback is welcome! 
> 
> I might have to go back over this entire story once it's done and edit/change stuff about it, so maybe consider this a first draft lol. 
> 
> Anyway, prepare for some darker chapters in the future, let me know if you want more dialogue with any of the characters - I suck at writing conversations and speech, so I try and avoid it. 
> 
> Thank you so much if you're still reading this, or if you're just starting. Hopefully my next chapter will be up a lot sooner than this one was.

You wanted to scream, kick and fight against the ropes that bound you tightly to the chair. You wanted to tear the sick smirk from his face, and claw at his ashen skin. You wanted to cry so loud his words were drowned in your ocean of fear and pain. You were a pawn, a silly, pathetic toy brought here to lure Rick to him. This was your fault, you thought, your eyes once again becoming shrink wrapped in salty tears. You had stolen that damn portal gun, chased your stupid, childish fantasy, your pathetic dream of finding a reality where Rick wanted you even a half as much as you loved him, and now your stupidity had led you into the claws of the prowling, sneering man before you.

‘How will you bring him here? Rick wouldn’t hand himself over to you!’ You spat, determined to steady your shaking voice and channel the rage that burned within you. 

He laughed, and you clenched your bound fists. 

‘It is adorable how infatuated you are with him,’ he spat, ‘I won’t bring him here, he will bring himself here, did you really think that was the only portal gun he had?’ he rolled his eyes, ‘You see, you risked it all, you risked his safety when you used his portal gun. The council will detect a compromised portal gun, they will dig and go sniffing around and, well, you know…they are Ricks after all, they’ll figure it out.’ He paused for a moment as if considering something, he let out a huffed laugh, running his tongue along his bottom lip, toying with the scar, ‘It’s almost as if you’ve given them the final piece of the puzzle, the final clue to finding the infamous C-137.’ 

He moved closer to you, but you refused to shrink back against your chair. You refused to be as weak as he believed you were. His calloused fingertips made their way along your jaw, toying with your bottom lip. Your stomach squirmed and dropped with every touch. 

He repulsed you. 

And he knew it. 

‘Do you have any idea of the crimes he’s committed?’ His crazed smirk was spread wide as if just thinking about the pain the truth would cause you brought him pleasure, ‘Any idea of the number of lives he’s ruined?’ You remained still, your eyes focused on nothing, trying to block the terrible thoughts that threatened to break you, ‘And not to mention what he took from you.’ 

You flinched and he noticed. 

Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he slowly brushed your hair from your face, pushing it neatly behind your ear, ‘That’s right, you wouldn’t have any recollection of what he took from you,’ He moved behind you, his fingers lingering and tracing along your jaw line. Your skin trembled, your breath shaking, you tried to turn and pull away from his haunting touch, but his fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck, clenching. You whimpered, a small, pained and pathetic whimper. ‘You don’t have a single memory of what he did to you,’ he pulled at the hair, another whimper falling from your quivering lips, ‘what he ripped straight from your pretty little head.’ 

‘What-What do you mean?’ You whispered, your voice breaking as you stumbled on the words. His fingers were still curled tightly in your hair; the searing pain causing fresh tears to prick at your eyes. He leaned over you, his long, looming body lurching over yours. With one hand still tightly curled in your hair, pulling your neck to the side, he came closer, his breath ghosting across your jaw. You shuddered, your hairs standing on end. He smirked, a silent, haunting smirk. 

‘I mean, he got inside that skull of yours, scrambled it up and took what he didn’t want you to remember,’ 

‘You’re lying,’ you wanted to spit and hiss the words, but instead, your voice seemed to come in pathetic whimpers. Whimpers which only caused him to let out a bark of a laugh.   
‘Still defending your precious Rick,’ his smirk remained fixed, but his eyes were dark and wide. 

‘Why would I believe you?’ 

‘You don’t need to believe me,’ he paused, running his finger along the underside of your jaw, before pausing, resting it beneath your chin. He tilted your chin upwards, forcing your eyes to meet his, ‘I could show you.’ 

You swallowed, your mind racing, trying to work its way through the tangled web of questions, but it was useless, your mind seemed to stutter and start, as if buffering with each new hurdle. You stumbled on your own thoughts, your own memories, trying to rack your own mind for some form of clue or hint as to what he was talking about. How had your Rick erased memories from your own mind? It was impossible; there was no way it could have happened! But then, that sobering realisation crept back into your mind - you were in another dimension, tied to a chair by a crazed version of the older man you thought you knew, so all measure of what could or couldn’t be possible seemed irrelevant. 

You stared up into his cold, dark eyes, wide and wild; bags hung from them, heavy. His stare never left you as you slowly nodded, fear tugging at your insides, unsure of what you had agreed to. 

He moved swiftly then, crossing the room in quick strides, he hunched over a desk, long, skeletal fingers reaching for different devices. You chewed at your chapped lips, your heart racing. 

Finally, he spun back around to face you, two twin devices held in either hand. They appeared to be like helmets, with wires trailing from the back. He walked back towards you, kneeling before you, his sick twisted grin level with your face. 

‘This shouldn’t hurt,’ he placed the device onto your head, running a finger along your cheek, ‘Not too badly.’ 

But before you had a chance to properly register his words, there was a sudden shock, like a bolt of electricity surging through your mind. Lights seemed to zap before your eyes, brilliant and bright, blinding. You were sure you were screaming, but all you could hear was a deafening shrill screech, as if someone were dragging nails along a chalkboard. 

And then, there was darkness. An all encompassing, deafening, darkness that seemed to suffocate you. Your heart stammered inside your chest and you could hear the muffled sound of your breathing, ragged and quivering. 

But then, the darkness seemed to lift, a ghost like fog dancing around you, before evaporating, as the light seemed to engulf it. You could hear voices, distant, indistinguishable muffled mutters and murmurs. You wanted to creep closer and listen. Your head ached, and for a split second you wondered whether it had all been some sick nightmare, and your stomach seemed to leap and twist, but then your eyes darted to the shadowy figure stood beside you. Looming, lingering. That jagged scar and twisted smirk. 

You swallowed; you heart sinking as you turned to him. 

‘Where are we?’ Your throat felt sore and dry. 

‘You tell me, these memories belong to you.’ 

And suddenly, it was as if a curtain had come billowing down from a ceiling that didn’t exist to reveal a long, dimly lit corridor. It was dingy, the carpet stained and torn, the wallpaper peeling from the walls and littered with damp patches. The corridor was lined with doors, each numbered. Light escaped from under the cracks of some, some were jarred open, some bolted shut. 

The lights began to dim and he stepped forwards, into the darkness of the corridor. You followed, giving in to a nagging anxiety, which told you not to be left in the darkness alone. 

It was as if the murmurs and muttering of voices were coming from within the walls, growing gradually louder with each step. You tripped on the torn, furled edges of the carpet and stumbled against his body, hands reaching blindly in the darkness. You muttered apologies and steadied yourself against the walls, feeling the damp paper squelching under your palms. 

You followed him, passing by door after door, listening to the sound of whispers, muffled cries and sobs, until finally, he came to a halt. 

The door he stood before was painted black, little chips of the paint were flaking and peeling. It had deep gouges scratched into it and a heavy chain wrapped around the lock. A blazing green light seeped from under the door and you felt your chest tighten with the realisation of what could possibly lie behind the door. The indistinguishable green - the light of the portal gun. 

But there was no time to argue with him, watching as he fiddled with the chain, it was as if he were untying his laces. It fell to the floor, clattering and clanging, as he pushed against the dark, flaking paint. 

You sucked in a sharp breath, holding it as you watched the door creak on its rusted hinges. You were bathed in the green glow of the portal gun, brilliant and bright. Your eyes darted around the small room, the realisation of where you were sinking like a weight within you. 

You knew the room only too well. The sagging, torn grey sofas, the bottles scattered across the floor, the chattering buzz of the television sounding in the corner – you were stood inside Rick’s apartment. 

‘Why are we here?’ You demanded, a sudden burst of rage ripping through you, ‘you told me you were going to show me what Rick took from me!’ 

He took a step closer, sauntering towards you, ‘Oh, I am going to show you what C-137 did, believe me, the anticipation is practically killing me,’ He paused, stepping closer to you, his body looming over yours, fear crept through you, your confidence faltering, but you willed yourself to stay standing tall, to push those feelings down, ‘but I need you to take me to the darkest places, the places you’ve kept locked away, the memories you’ve kept repressed.’ 

‘Why?’ You spat, crossing your arms, feeling heat rising in your cheeks. 

He smirked, ‘Because, somewhere, stuffed deep down inside of this mess of memories is the last remaining shards of what he ripped from your mind. If you want to know the truth you need to take me to the darkest parts of your memory, you need to let me see so that I can find those shards and put them back together again.’

You shook your head violently at his words, ‘I won’t, I can’t…’ You stuttered, ‘I won’t show you!’ 

But he simply shrugged, leaning closer to you, ‘you don’t have a choice, you’re trapped here, just you and I,’ He paused, nodding towards to something behind you, ‘And it looks like the show is about to begin.’ 

The green glare of the portal had reappeared, the blazing brilliant light illuminating the previously miserable apartment. Long limbs and unruly hair stepped out from the light, your heart seeming to stutter and stammer, your stomach whirring as you watched Rick step from the portal. 

‘Can he see me?’ You asked, turning quickly to face the other version of the man. He shook his head.   
‘We’re inside your memory, no one can see us,’ He rolled his eyes. 

The room was still cast in the green glow of the whirring portal, enough light for you to make out the figure stood on the other side of the room. Your eyes scanned over her, over the version of yourself that stood in the darkness, fumbling with the sleeves of her jumper and tugging her bottom lip between her teeth. 

Her eyes were shrink-wrapped in tears, her cheeks still stained with the salty tracks of those she had already spilled. She looked so young, so small. You felt your insides squirm uncomfortably as you watched her; the version of yourself trapped inside this memory was nothing more than a young, foolish girl. 

You thought back to this night, a memory you had buried. He had been gone for days, which had stretched into weeks. No mention of where he was going and it had driven you to the darkest corners of your mind. You had no way of contacting him, no way of knowing whether he was coming back. You had spent the time alone, driving yourself further into a pit of despair and depression. Your head had been filled with the darkest of thoughts; fearing for his safety, not knowing whether he was safe. 

Memories of him wrapping his body around versions of you that satisfied him, his fingers tangled in their hair, breath against their skin - They were the same as you, the same features, the same bodies, there was no difference - except they weren’t you. Those thoughts had kept you awake, taunting you, leaving you to clutch at the sheets around you, your face buried into his bed sheets, sobbing and whimpering. 

You swallowed, staring at that small, foolish girl, trying to shake the thoughts from you head. How had you been so pathetic? How had you wasted so many years chasing after a man that didn’t care for your happiness? You felt your stomach twist and churn. 

Suddenly, you watched as she reached forwards, her small hands reaching for the older man. You turned to face Rick, who was hunched over, stumbling in the dark room. His hand was pressed against the side of his body, red beginning to creep out further from the edges of a dark crimson stain. You watched as she rushed forwards, her eyes wide with horror. 

You watched as she begged, desperate pleas for him to tell her what had happened, frantically pleading with him to listen to her, for him to go to the hospital. But instead he pushed past her, grumbling. 

‘Rick, please! I-I don’t care what you’ve done, just tell me what I can-‘

‘C-care what I’ve-I’ve done? W-w-why the fuck would I be concerned about telling you’ve what I’ve done!’ His voice was rough and loud, cutting her off and you watched as she sunk back, ‘I’ve-I’ve been shot you selfish little shit!’ He hissed, his words like venom. 

You felt yourself wince, watching the memory you had buried, remembering the feelings of panic and dread that were laced with anger and resentment. You remembered wanting to cry out and demand answers; where had he been, what had he done, why had he left you? But instead, you watched as the younger version of yourself crumpled beside him. 

You stared at Rick, your eyes pricking with tears that threatened to spill, your fists clenched at your sides. 

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ you jumped at the sound of the man behind you, turning to see the jagged scarred smirk sauntering from the darkness of the room, slowly clapping his hands together, ‘I present to you the love of her life, Rick C-137.’ Your fists clenched tighter, a sudden burst of rage felt as though it had erupted within you. You felt your body move before your brain seemed to register what was happening, your mind a sudden blur of resentment and pain. 

You launched yourself towards him, your fists hitting, nails scratching, rage spilling from your lips. But he was stronger than you, faster than you, and suddenly you were pinned, pushed up against the wall, his body against yours, trapped. 

You felt his breath against your skin, that cruel smirk lingering against your skin. 

‘Let me make this clear to you,’ He whispered, a sluggish chill creeping along your spine, ‘I could leave you here,’ his thin fingers pushed a piece of hair that had fallen into your eyes, tucking it neatly behind you ear, ‘I could leave you here alone, to rot inside the darkest corners of your own brain.’ You let out a sob, a desperate apology, a whimpering plea begging him to let you leave, but instead, he leant closer, forcing your head to one side, ‘This is just the beginning.’


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter took longer than expected to post - I really wanted to condense this and the next chapter, but the next chapter is still very messy, so I decided to split them back up. I'm also sorry if this story doesn't seem as though the story line is going anywhere currently, I promise it will hopefully pick up after the next chapter or two. 
> 
> Please check tags for potential trigger warning/dark themes and references to potentially upsetting content that will be included in this chapter. 
> 
> Also, I have never posted about such a dark subject before and honestly hope that this does not offend or upset anyone. This story will be becoming progressively darker from this point. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! (Ps, this has been proofread at 2 am, if I've missed anything/left sentences half finished, please let me know!)

His skeletal fingers wrapped tightly around your upper arm, causing you to wince, he pulled, seemingly effortlessly and your body jerked involuntarily towards him. You didn’t have time to consider what was happening, your mind still attempting to wrap itself around the warped and twisted memory you had been forced to relive. The memory you had buried and he had dug back up. You didn’t have time to register that he was dragging you back out into the dark, dingy corridor. Instead, your mind tripped and faltered, as if it were buffering. 

He pulled open the dark chipped door and pushed you back out in the corridor. The lingering scent of damp, dimly flickering lights and the sounds of pained whimpers, sobs and cries made your skin crawl. The corridor seemed to stretch and wind, and you felt your stomach twist and turn, churning at the thought of having to enter each and every one of those rooms. 

He pushed you forwards, his hand pressing against the small of your back as if guiding you. You willed yourself not to shudder under his touch, cringing at the contact, hating yourself for comparing it to the touch of your own Rick. Wanting to crush the thoughts of comparison and similarity. Yet the knots in your stomach seemed to twist tighter at the creepy familiarity of the touch. 

He was nothing like him, you thought. You repeated it to yourself. 

He wasn’t him. 

You walked, slowly, cautiously past several doors, wincing at the sounds and noises that came from within, before finally, he ordered you to stop. 

You swallowed, taking a deep, steadying breath, before turning to face the door. There were no tell-tale signs from the outside, instead, the door was similar to the others, blistering, peeling dark paint, chips and scratches, but instead of a chain, this door was bolted shut with several metal locks. 

Of course, however, just like the chain, these locks were light work for him. His fingers rattled against them for what seemed like nothing more than a few seconds, before they fell in a clattering heap on the ground. 

The door swung open, your breath hitching in your throat. A cocktail of apprehension and anxiety bubbled and churned within you, bile rising in your throat. You squeezed your eyes shut, stepping inside. 

You heard his cruel, smug laugh coming from behind you, and you could imagine that twisted smirk. You wished that you could keep your eyes squeezed shut, but his hands pushed roughly, forcing you to step further into the room. 

You were stood inside a hotel room, it was dark, except for the flashing of dazzling neon lights outside, which bathed the room in a fluorescent haze of oranges, reds and pinks, an artificial, Vegas sunset. 

Your stomach churned, you felt tears spiking at your eyes. You had been sure that this memory was buried deeper than any other, deep enough that he couldn’t bring it back to the surface and make you live through the hellish nightmare once more. But here you were. 

The room was silent, aside from the humming buzz of the air-conditioning, whirring in the sticky humid room. You knew that any moment now the memory of yourself and your Rick would enter the room. You knew that she would be crying, clutching desperately at Rick, begging and pleading with him. 

You chewed the inside of your gums, grinding the flesh between your teeth as you anxiously waited. Your palms were growing clammy and your stomach flipped uncomfortably. He was stood in the corner of the room, almost entirely cloaked in the shadows, leant against the wall, arms folded, running his tongue along his teeth. He was watching, waiting. It was as if there were a twisted and ravenous hunger that gnawed at him, kept satisfied by your pain. If your own Rick were the predator, then he was the vulture, ready to feed off the remains of your pain. 

Your skin was crawling, your hairs standing on end; you wanted to rip open the door to the hotel hallway and run. But where would you go? You were inside a memory. There was no running from this. 

Not until he had seen what he wanted to see. 

He clicked his tongue impatiently, drumming his fingertips on the bedside cabinet. And then, right on cue, you could hear the sound of footsteps. Your eyes flicked to the door, your breath held as you waited for the sound of the key. 

‘And here we go,’ He smirked, his drawling voice dripping in ridicule. You winced. 

The door swung open. 

You took in a deep breath, steadying yourself against the bedpost. 

‘Rick, please! Please don’t,’ she was begging, ‘Please don’t leave me, there’s something wrong, something isn’t right!’ She was clutching desperately at the front of her dress, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. She stretched out her other hand, clutching at him, ‘Rick, please, this-this is our baby!’ 

You shut your eyes for a moment, blocking out the image of yourself, swallowing around the lump, which was lodged tightly in your throat. You told yourself to breathe, to focus, to get through this. 

You watched as Rick paced, his motions frantic and fast. He stood, his back to the window, the blazing neon lights casting their wild colours onto him, illuminating his sharp features in hues of blues, oranges, pinks and greens. A fiery halo of light cast around his wild ice blue hair. He looked crazed and overwrought, frenzied and yet weary and exhausted. His features seemed almost gaunt, bags hanging heavily from his eyes, yet they darted quickly around the room, shooting anxious, paranoid glances. You tried to remember whether that was due to some strange substance, or perhaps due to a string of insomnia driven nights spent chasing portals. But then you watched as his shoulders fell forwards, his body slumping as if the effort of standing was suddenly exhausting. 

He looked old, weak. And you pitied him. You felt sympathy for the man who stood before you, the realisation worming its way into your mind and tugging at every chord, every tangled tie you had ever anchored to him, every desperate clutching attempt to keep him, you felt sorrow because it all became so clear - he had been afraid. 

A shudder crept slowly along your spine. 

He ran his hands over his face and back through his hair, his knuckles clenching into fists around the tufts of blue. His chest rose and fell, rattling breaths slowly steadying. 

‘Please, Rick,’ she whispered, desperately and you winced at how weak she sounded, how defeated she was. 

‘W-w-what do you want me to do? What do you want from me?’ His voice was loud, his eyes wide and frenzied. 

You watched as she let out a whimper, sinking back. Her whole body seemed to tremble as she watched him. You could remember the fear, the panic that he might hurt you. The unpredictable nature of Rick had always been exciting, mysterious - your heart had raced with each new adventure, but then in that moment, you could remember the heart stopping dread, the ice cold fear that coursed through you as you watched him.

‘I can’t fix this!’ He roared and you winced, watching as his chest heaved with ragged breaths. 

They were both silent then. Still and silent. 

‘You can’t fix this,’ her voice was nothing more than a weak whisper, ‘but pl-please don’t leave me,’ she reached out a hand, tentatively, cautiously, as if reaching for a wounded beast. 

But he didn’t turn, he didn’t flinch, instead, he straightened his shoulders. He stood tall for a moment. He sucked in a deep breath. And then, with the click of a button the swirling, dazzling green appeared before him and, without looking back, he stepped through it. 

The sound of her sobs, your sobs, your innocent young sobs, filled the hotel room. You could still remember the pain, the searing agony. You had mourned for more than just what you had lost. You had mourned for a life that had been cruelly snatched from you, but you had also mourned your own selfish desire to keep Rick; your own ravenous, insatiable yearning for his affection and love. 

You could still remember how he had held you, promised that he wouldn’t, that he couldn’t leave you and all the memories of sleepless nights spent whimpering, pathetically clutching at his sheets had washed away. He had soothed the darkest corners of your mind. And you had believed him; you had thought that he was yours forever. 

But you had been so wrong.

Suddenly, her body seemed to buckle, and you reached almost instinctively towards her as if there were any way you could support her. An ear-piercing scream ripped through the air, as she gripped desperately at her stomach before rushing towards the bathroom door. 

She slammed it shut behind her, but her cries and whimpers were still audible. Her sudden bursts of pain were met with shrieks and sobs that seemed to echo around the hotel room. 

You were trembling, silent tears dribbling down your cheeks and tumbling down to the stained hotel floor. You stood, staring at the wood of the bathroom door, remembering - knowing exactly what was happening. Knowing that she would be hunched over the toilet, gagging and clutching at her stomach, before falling to a crumpled heap on the floor. Knowing that she would curl up in the shower, letting the water wash over her weak body. 

Knowing that he wouldn’t come back.

‘You lost it, didn’t you,’ his voice made you flinch, ‘right here,’ He prowled closer to you, ‘alone.’ You drew in a shaking breath.

‘Can-Can we leave now?’ your voice was nothing more than a whimper. 

You were numb - your mind rattled and broken. Your limbs were heavy, like weights that dragged behind you as he steered you back towards the corridor. 

You already knew what would lie behind the next door.

There could be only one other memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, this story still makes sense. Thank you so much for reading, any feedback is more than welcome! x


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter has mentions of self-harm and references to suicide. Please read with caution, I did try to make the reference brief, but if this is a subject you are uncomfortable with please either read with caution or skip. 
> 
> Sorry that this chapter, once again, took longer than I anticipated. 
> 
> Also, sorry that this chapter might, again, seem repetitive. I wanted to flesh this story out a little more before I jumped into the next part, but I promise that the next chapter should be up soon and be more interesting. 
> 
> ANNNDDD if my depiction of 'Evil Rick' isn't that great or you think the dialogue didn't have the right effect please do let me know, I personally think that I'm pretty crap at writing dialogue and struggled a lot with it, so any feedback is more than welcome. 
> 
> Oh and my proof-reading sucks, so if anyone notices any errors let me know.

You were stood in the darkness of the corridor; the musky, pungent scent of damp lingered heavily in the air, the sound of sniffling and whining, sobs and cries still clear, his hand still firmly planted on the small of your back. 

You knew there was only one way out. 

You knew that the only way you could escape this nightmare was to dive into the deep, dark swamps of your own mind and dredge up what you had long hoped would remain buried. 

You took deep, steadying lungfuls of air, breathing deeply through your nostrils; you forced yourself to block out the repugnant, repulsive stench that hung around you. You clenched your fingers into tight balls, feeling the sting of your nails biting into the soft flesh of your palms. Your heart stammered, your stomach flipped, adrenaline coursing through you. But still, you focused, your eyes fixed on the blistered and chipped paint of the final door. Your body moved mechanically towards it, blocking out the voices in your own mind that told you to stop and beg him to let you leave. 

You knew what had to be done. 

No light escaped from under the crack of this door. There were no tell-tale cries or shouts to decipher. No locks, bolts or chains prevented you from entering. And so, you did not wait for his command, you did not wait to be told that you could enter, instead, you took one final drawn in breath and stepped inside. 

The searing burn of hot, salty tears stinging at your eyes was immediate. Your chest had felt as though it were a bundle of ropes, constricting and tightening around your aching heart and your legs became suddenly weak under the weight of your body. You wanted to turn away and let out the strangled sob you bit back, your legs trembled and your stomach churned. But instead, you forced yourself to remain still, refusal and determination burning like a hot coal within you, you stared at the scene before you, your clouded eyes fixed on your own small, limp body. 

‘Jeeeesus,’ you heard him hiss from behind you, his voice dripping with a smug, sickening satisfaction; a twisted satisfaction that you knew he would relish in. After all, this was the nauseating, cruel win he had hoped for. He had prowled around inside your memories until he reached your darkest hour. 

You refused to turn to him, refused to let him see your eyes shrink-wrapped in tears, or the trembling of your lips. Instead, you kept your eyes fixed on her. 

Fixed on the lifeless, bloodied body of yourself. Her ashen, pale skin illuminated only by the streetlights outside. Somewhere between the bottom of the bottle, the razors edge and the nauseating cocktail of blood loss and vomit, she had fallen unconscious, slumped and drained. 

You didn’t want to remember, but you knew this was the only way.

‘Tell me,’ he whispered, his body so close to yours, his breath ghosting across your skin and hands snaking around your hips, ‘Did he leave you like this?’ You were rigid and numb, that hot coal of refusal still burning within you, ‘who found you? Oh, wait, shit, it was him, wasn’t it? He found you!’ Suddenly his voice was filled with an exhilaration that brought bile to the back of your throat, ‘Oh god that is disgusting,’ you knew he was still smirking, despite the way he spat his malice, ‘no wonder he fucking hates you. Did you think it would get his attention? Force him to stay and fix you? Did you want daddy to take the pain away?’ He was laughing, his grip, like a vice, fingers digging and clawing at the skin of your hips, ‘You’re one fucked up little piece of shit.’ His words stung and tore at you, and you felt tears beginning to splash in hot trails down your cheeks, ‘I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he arrives, I can’t wait to see just how much you repulsed him.’

You shook your head violently as if you could shake those venomous words straight from your mind. Shake those twisted lies and remember the truth. Rick, your Rick, he had returned. You could remember, so vaguely, the sound of his voice, a tangled and confused mess of anger and horror, the panic rising in his tone as his hands wrapped around your arms, shaking you. You could remember the way he pulled you against him, holding you against his body, promising you that you would be fine, that he was there. 

‘He didn’t leave me,’ you spoke through gritted teeth, ‘He came back.’ 

You felt his breath against your skin as he exhaled a huffed laugh, ‘That was always the problem with C-137, his own desperate need to rid himself of guilt,’ his lips were against your neck then, his tongue working its way across your skin, your stomach gave a sickening lurch as he trailed down into the crook of your neck, ‘You defend him like he came back here to save you, like he honestly cared about anything other than himself,’ he paused, dragging his teeth across your skin, ‘like he cared about you,’ he breathed deeply, exhaling against your skin, ‘the only thing he came back here to save was himself. The only person he ever cared about saving was himself.’ 

You tried, desperately, to block his words, to erase what he was saying from your mind. You knew he had come back. He had been angry, resentful, but he had fixed you. He had cared. But the truth snaked its way into your mind, wrapping and constricting around what you had hoped was Rick’s love for you, draining the life from the fleeting remnants of hope you had left. Rick had only returned to save himself from the guilt, the fault, the shame. He’d only come back to save himself from losing grip on the last shards of humanity he still had a hold of. 

Rick had used you to save himself. 

The realisation hit you like a blow to the stomach. You felt momentarily winded, momentarily frozen, before those feelings were replaced with a bubbling rage that seemed to suddenly engulf you. 

‘Get out of my head! Get out!’ you were screaming, your throat raw, ‘Get out!’ you cried, a sudden rage blazing within you. Your breaths came in ragged, short bursts and your fists balled tightly. Your body reeled forwards; pulling away from his grasp, ‘Get out!’ 

Your words seemed to echo around you, ricocheting and recoiling off the walls. The room shook violently, as though your screams were able to shake the very foundations and suddenly the walls seemed to crack, and shatter, as though they were made of glass. Great cracks began to form and splinter across the walls, the plaster peeling away to reveal crumbling bricks. The glass of the windows shattered, hurtling shimmering bullets of glass towards you. You stumbled backwards, only to feel his hands wrapping tightly around your arms and spinning you to face him. 

That sickening smirk was still firmly fixed upon his face, his eyes lit with a sudden flare of exhilaration. You struggled against his hold, your screams and cries unrelenting. 

The air became thick with smoke, a heavy all-encompassing cloud that seemed to swallow everything around you. You choked, gasping suddenly for air, your lungs feeling as though they were on fire. You scrambled, pushing against him, gulping desperately, as the light seemed to be absorbed by the darkness. Your heart hammered inside your chest, panic rising within you as the realisation that the memory around you was collapsing. The fragility of your tender mind suddenly became only too clear, as you shut your eyes tightly to stop the tears that spilt down your cheeks. Your thoughts were a tangled web, a clouded haze of panic and fear that you could no longer seem to navigate. The ground below you continued to quake violently, the floorboards cracking and splintering. Your screams still echoed loudly around the room, as if they were spirits set free from a trap. 

You turned back to face where the memory of you had been just moments before, but it were as though the room had been torn open by some unrelenting force, like a great black hole that threatened to consume everything around you; the bleak, empty darkness of your own shattered mind. 

But then, suddenly, a blazing brilliant white light broke through the cracks in the door, almost blinding, it illuminated the darkness. You squeezed your eyes shut against it, the searing brilliance of it almost too much to bear. You felt his arms around you, pulling you away from the tormenting darkness and pushing you forcefully into the light. 

The door was slammed behind you, the sound of your tortured screams silenced. You fell forwards into the light, gasping great deep breaths of air. You were no longer in the dank, damp darkness of the corridor, but instead, you were now stood in an illuminated, sterile and white corridor, like that of a hospital.

‘What happened? What’s happening?’ You asked, but he did not answer. Instead, he lowered his head, his sick, twisted smirk widening; his eyes dark and fixated. 

You followed his gaze along the corridor, to a single white door. 

‘What’s behind that door?’ Your voice was nothing more than a whisper, pathetic and small. 

He turned to you, his eyes filled with a hunger that sent a shiver along your spine. 

‘The memories that he stole from you.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked this chapter, again, sorry if it was a little boring. If anyone has any feedback I would love to hear it, thank you all so much for reading and sticking with this story. 
> 
> I love you guys!!! Thanks for reading


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up, I was really hoping I could get it up before the end of the season but..hey. 
> 
> I hope you guys like this, and that it's not too confusing! please feel free to leave me any comments or suggestions on how to improve :) 
> 
> Special shoutout to PanthaPrincess for beta reading this and working through the rambling-mess that it was to begin with hahah! Xoxo
> 
> And thank you to anyone still here reading this! <3

You had been so afraid; a crippling and tormenting fear had gripped hold of you and threatened to rip you apart and tear at your mind. Your heart had beat furiously against your ribs, your lungs gasping for air, as your mind battled with the force that threatened to pull it apart. But now, as you stared at the white door before you, you were numb. There was no fear. No anxiety. You had buried those. Forced them deep within you. There was no time to think, or attempt to comprehend or untangle the mess of thoughts that had raced through your mind. Instead, you were still. You glanced over at him, his scarred and jagged smirk fixed firmly in place. You had come to the decision that if evil had a face it belonged to this version of Rick. He wrapped his fingers tightly around your wrist, but you did not wince or try to fight his force. 

The door was unlike the previous; there was no chipped or peeling paint, no gouges or scratches, no sobs or whimpers to be heard. Instead, there was a deafening silence that hung heavily over you. The door appeared untouched, all except for a single, small red x. 

You reached out, gently touching your fingertips against the cool wood. You could feel the sickening swell of your fear beginning to churn uncomfortably within the pit of your stomach. But you fought against it, refusal grappling with it; a determination and grit forcing you to push against the door and step into the unknown.

You had faced the darkness, beaten the darkness. What pain could the light bring? What memories could your own Rick have stolen from you? A bitter, cynical voice within you hissed that it could be no worse than the youth and happiness he had already shattered.

You shielded your eyes against the searing light, it was impossible to see and so you kept moving, blinded by the radiance. You knew that the jagged smirk was following you closely, you could feel his looming presence behind you, a twisted part of you grateful that you weren’t alone. The deafening silence was filled only by the echoing sound of your footsteps.

Finally, it was as if the light had begun to dim and you were able to lower your hand from where it had been shielding your eyes. You were stood within a large, white brick warehouse, floor-length windows lined the walls, but you could not make out what lay beyond them. The warehouse appeared to be empty, and you whipped your head quickly around, searching for any form of clue as to where you might be.

But then, a ghost-like fog seemed to dance around you, great plumes of smoke elegantly circling you. Suddenly, you could make out the sound of voices, distant and indistinguishable, muffled mutters and murmurs and you walked, blindly towards the voices that seemed to come from within the fog.

It was as if the fog were forming into shapes and objects. The voices were growing louder, more distinguishable, a humdrum of chatter and conversation. You moved ever closer, finally able to make out the grey ashen faces, none of which you recognised. They were almost transparent, like spirits moving effortlessly, as though they were gliding, their voices echoing around you.

You fumbled on your own thoughts; your mind a clouded haze of questions. You didn’t recognise your surroundings, the faces were foreign to you, the conversation indistinguishable.

And then, suddenly, you could see her. The version of you, just a brief glimpse. She was stood, with her back to you, her eyes fixed upon something before her. Your legs moved mechanically, picking up speed as you made your way through the bustling crowd. You drew ever closer, your breath held. She didn’t appear like the others, she was not ghost-like or grey. She looked real. A flash of ice blue made your heart stammer and your stomach twist. He was stood beside her, his hand placed gently on the small of her back. 

You felt your breath hitch in your throat and suddenly you were propelling yourself towards them, desperate to reach them, watching as she turned to look up at him, her mouth moving around words you could not hear. He titled his head back, a smile stretched across his face, before wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her against his body.

But then, just as you were close enough to reach them, close enough to reach out and touch them, it was as if they were made of nothing but smoke, melting away before your eyes, swirling around you in great trails of grey cloud. 

‘Why couldn’t I hear them?’ You spun, demanding answers, but you were met with nothing but the cold, dark stare of your captor. You felt as though you were spinning through a gyre; an endless vortex of confusion, a thousand unanswered questions racing around you, ‘Where are we?’ You tried your hardest to remain calm, but your voice betrayed you, cracking as though you might cry.

‘You can’t hear them because these memories don’t belong to you anymore, you don’t know what you were talking about, you don’t know where you are, because as far as you’re aware these moments never occurred’ he paused, lurking closer to you, ‘all that’s left are the remains.’

‘H-How? But…’ You started and stopped, stuttering and trailing off. You didn’t understand.

He sighed, rolling his eyes and throwing his head back, as if the situation were tiring or boring to him. He walked ahead of you, motioning over his shoulder for you to follow.

He walked swiftly, effortlessly, towards a door that had appeared where they had stood. You were sure it had not been there before, but still, you followed him towards it, watching as he tugged at the handle and swung it open. 

He prowled behind you before pulling you forcefully against his body, ‘Think,’ he snarled, ‘Think about where you are, what can you see?’ Your eyes darted around the room you had stepped into, but it was no use, the walls were blank, white bricks, just like the warehouse before and the hum and murmurs of the distant chatter were still an indistinguishable distraction.

‘I-I don’t know!’ You stammered, your eyes searching desperately for some form of clue, anything that might give away where you were.

‘Not good enough,’ he growled, one of his hands twisting painfully into the hair at the nape of your neck. You whimpered, blinking furiously around the tears, which had begun to form. You squeezed your eyes shut, frantically racing through thoughts. There had to be something, anything that could help you figure out where you were. Your own frustration seemed to cloud your mind as you willed yourself to remember. You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing the palms of your hands against the sockets of your eyes until bursts of colours exploded behind them. 

And then, suddenly, it was as if the clouded haze within your mind began to clear, like a thick fog that was slowly lifting. Suddenly, you felt his grip loosen, a growled praise, and your eyes snapped back open to reveal a familiar room.

You were stood inside your own bedroom. Your furniture, bed-sheets, pile of clothes, stacks of records, mess of art supplies. You stumbled forwards, a sudden swell of emotion racing through you. You were home, safe, but that was impossible and the reality of that sunk within you like a weight. 

You could hear laughter, a familiar laugh that felt as though it could wrap itself around you, constricting until your breath left you. You turned, to see the door bursting open, their bodies tangled with one another as they tumbled into the room, lips locked and hands wandering. 

You felt as though your chest were constricting, the air suddenly thick and heavy and impossible to swallow. You clenched your jaw, grinding your teeth, a determination and refusal to let the anxiety that threatened to drag you under, suffocate you. 

You watched them, drinking in every small detail, desperately trying to remember any clue or hint that might lead you to the truth. 

They looked just the same; there were no real differences. Perhaps only the fact that Rick's hair appeared shorter, less unruly and wild. Tamed and slicked back. His wiry, toned frame remained the same. Lean limbs and taut muscles stretched over bone. 

But then there were subtle, tiny, distinctions. It was as if the longer you watched, the clearer these things became, as if the fog were still lifting over the hazy memory. A creeping, churning feeling within you urged you to move closer. 

You stepped forwards, pausing as you expected them to disappear like they had before. Half expecting them to vanish before your eyes, but they remained and so you kept your eyes fixed upon them, searching for clues. 

You didn’t recognise the way he spoke. There was no bored drawl to his tone or bitter bite to his words. She did not wince or turn away, cheeks flushing with embarrassment at his sharp sting, instead she laughed, pulling him by his collar into another kiss; their mouths clashed together, momentarily hungry, before finding a slow, languid and softer pace.

He pushed her down onto the bed, his long limbs tangling with hers as he continued down her body, placing gentle kisses along her stomach. His hands wandered along her body along her sides, but there was no ferocious or feral need, there was no desperation, no grabbing, tugging or pulling, only soft, delicate touches. She moaned, but he did not chastise her or tell her to be quiet, instead tender words laced in affection fell from his lips.

He tugged at his shirt, tossing it carelessly to the side and you felt your stomach twist uncomfortably. The jagged litter of scars, healed wounds that you had traced with your fingertips endless times. They were not there. His skin was unscathed. Perfect, toned, pale skin. And suddenly, you felt as though you were plummeting, as the realisation that the man before you, working his way along your body, was not the man you knew at all.

He was not your Rick.

You swallowed around a lump, which felt as though it were lodged in your throat, a swirling and consuming panic beginning to cloud your vision. You shook your head, trying to remain focused, refusing to let the clouded haze of the memory disappear once again. 

‘Did I-‘ you stuttered, ‘Did I cheat on Rick?’ You turned to face the man behind you, watching as his lips twisted and his expression flickered with a fleeting glimmer of twisted excitement, as if the prospect of you betraying Rick sparked a flash of interest within him. 

‘You think C-137 would keep you around if you slept with another Rick?’ he sneered, rolling his eyes in their dark sockets.

‘He isn’t my Rick!’ you exclaimed, frustration rising within you, ‘That isn’t C-137!’ You stood, defiantly, finger pointing accusingly at the version of Rick that was busy working his way along a version of yourself. But he didn’t listen instead, he stepped forwards, towards a chest of drawers, rummaging and routing through each one, tossing items of clothing you vaguely recognised as your own, until he finally pulled a heavy, bound book from within.

It was black leather, with silver calligraphy letters scrawled along the spine. He thrust it towards you and your fingers clumsily fumbled, almost letting it slip.

‘What is this?’ You asked, your eyes scanning over it. You read the words printed along the spine, trying your hardest to ignore the uncomfortable twisting and tightening in your chest, as the realisation that it was a photo album that belonged to you. You had bought it back when you had moved to the city, hoping to fill it with memories and keepsakes. Hoping that it would be a nostalgic memento of your wonder-filled years. You weren’t sure what had happened to your own version of the album, perhaps you had tossed it away?

‘Open it!’ he demanded in a low voice. Your fingertips shook slightly as you pulled back the front cover to reveal a collection of photos. The first few were of nothing in particular; photos of your apartment, the city, some rough sketches. A sudden sense of impatient urgency washed over you and you began to flick through with greater speed, your eyes scanning each photo briefly; recognising and immediately discarding, as if mentally checking and confirming that you knew where or what the photo was of.

Until, suddenly, you stilled, your fingers hovering over a photo of yourself. A photo of yourself and Rick, wide smiles stretched across both their faces. There was no difference in the way you looked, but the wild, untamed hair of Rick was slicked back, the way the Rick before you had his styled. You swallowed, fingers flicking further, eyes scanning.

The rest of the album was filled with photos of the pair, smiling, laughing, heads thrown back, small tender moments captured and tacked inside the album. Your head felt as though it were spinning, as each piece of the puzzle seemed to slowly begin to fall into place. A shudder crept along your spine as your mind worked its way through a hundred questions, all the while your eyes remained fixed on the photos of them.

You shook your head violently, as if it might help to bring clarity, but instead, you just felt panic rising within you. You threw the album down, the leather-bound book hitting the floorboards with a heavy, thick thud. The room suddenly felt suffocating, their moans echoing around you, as if mocking you. You turned, desperately in search of a way out. Your eyes fixed upon a door and you chased towards it, yanking frantically at the handle. It swung open and you fell through into another room.

A bar. Familiar. Yet still a hazy, vague and distant memory. You could hear their laughter, their voices distinct. You could see them sat together, fingers interlocked.

You kept moving, heading towards another door and tumbling into a busy room filled with familiar faces; your friends, family, colleagues. A bright banner hung overhead, emblazed with your name, a towering cake, glasses of champagne and a chorus of singing. The same unscathed, unscarred Rick stood behind the version of yourself, wrapping a necklace around her neck, kissing her swiftly, before pulling her into his arms.

How could these memories belong to you? How could any of this be the truth if Rick, your own battered and broken Rick, was not stood beside you? He seemed to be just as intelligent as your own Rick; a portal gun and his elation over scientific breakthroughs seemed testament to that. But he wasn’t C-137.

You tore forwards, through door after door, room after room of memories you couldn’t recall. You stumbled and tripped through countless moments of happiness and laughter, tangled limbs, chaste kisses and words laced with love. Your heart stammered and thumped inside of your chest, until you were panting and wheezing, gasping around great lung-fulls of air that seemed to burn inside you. You raced forwards until you reached a room that was unlike the others.

Devoid of laughter, it was dark and cold. A single strip light flickered and stuttered, before finally casting its artificial light around the room. You blinked, your eyes adjusting to the sudden onslaught of light. You were stood inside some form of storage unit, various pieces of furniture and boxes stacked around you. Rick and yourself were no-where to be seen and the door you had entered through seemed to have disappeared. A rising sense of panic began to bubble within you as your eyes worked their way around your surroundings and the realisation that there was no turning back sank heavily within you.

The sound of distant voices and footsteps coming from beyond the metal shutter door drew you out of your frenzied thoughts. You stared at the shutter, clenching your fists tightly. The rational part of your mind fought tirelessly to remind you that this was not unlike the other memories; whoever was beyond the shutter wouldn’t be able to see you, they couldn’t harm you, yet still, you felt your pulse quickening with each step they took. 

A slight relief washed over you as you recognised the voices as your own and  
Rick’s. But that relief seemed to be tainted by the cold realisation that the voice of the man that stood beyond the shutter door was still not that of your own Rick, but the tone of the Rick who had been in the other memories; the memories that you could not recollect.

The sound of a metal chain clinking, followed by the clanking of metal, the door rolled open to reveal the two figures.

‘It still doesn’t feel real!’ The version of yourself squealed in excitement, dancing into the storage unit, ‘Our own place, just you and me!’ She let out an excited, childlike giggle, wrapping her arms around his neck. He laughed, his hands on her hips.

‘Well, it’ll feel real as soon as we get all of our stuff out of here and moved in.’ He smiled down at her and you felt your chest growing tighter as he kissed her lips gently.

You watched as they began to lift and sort through various boxes. You watched the way they moved around one another, playfully teasing one another and stealing kisses. You felt sick - A jealous, gross sickness that churned within you. A jealousy for a life you couldn’t remember.

It felt as though you were watching a movie, a reel of clips pieced together, but still you couldn’t seem to understand how these memories possibly belong to you.

Who was this Rick? What had happened to him?

But then you were pulled from your thoughts by a sudden flash of luminous, swirling green. You turned towards it, sucking in the cool air in a sharp breath. Your eyes widened, head spinning back to face the version of yourself and Rick.

He had moved in front of her, protectively shielding her, as she clutched at his jacket. Wind whipped around the three of you, papers scattering and boxes tumbling down.

An eternity seemed to pass, staring into the blinding light of the portal, your heart pumping erratically, before finally, a figure stepped forwards, a figure that you could recognise anywhere, long, thin limbs and wild, ice-blue hair, a fixed stern frown and a pair of piercing eyes – Rick C-137.

But he was not alone. From within the portal another figure stepped, and you felt your stomach twist, a choked sob rising within you. The same slender figure, manic hair and dark eyes, paired with a jagged scarred smirk. The same Rick that had held you captive and forced you to re-live your darkest memories stood before you, skulking behind your own Rick, a leering smirk stretched across his pale face.

You didn’t have time to think, to compute or attempt to understand what was happening. Instead, you watched in a mix of horror and fear as they stepped forwards. You could hear your own voice, panicked and the voice of the man holding her telling her that it would be ok.

‘Go near the girl and I’ll snap your neck,’ C-137 growled, to which the scarred Rick behind him sneered. She let out a small, whimpered cry and you shuddered.

‘I-I told you before, I’m not interested in joining the citadel!’ The Rick stood protectively in front of her stammered, his eyes flicking between the two versions of himself that stood before him, ‘I-I-I’m not like other Ricks-‘

‘S-S-Shut the fuck up!’ C-137 cut him off, glaring at him, ‘This isn’t another invitation to join the Citadel, which, I might add I’m not a part of either, so quit fucking around with your spiel of self-righteous, individuality, you’re no different to any of those assholes!’ A silence settled over the room, broken only by her soft sobs.

‘Do it,’ the leering, twisted smirk spread further across the other Rick’s scarred face, as he prowled closer to C-137, ‘finish what you came here to do.’

C-137 shut his eyes, his jaw clenched, fists closed. He drew in a shaking breath and you felt your stomach twist. Slowly, he reached into his lab-coat, pulling a gun from within. Panic pierced through the scene, the version of you letting out a startled cry.

‘Just-Just get on your knees,’ he demanded, his tone was tired and exasperated, ‘don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be!’

Your eyes flicked between the two of them, watching as C-137 pointed the gun towards the Rick stood protectively before the version of yourself, slowly he raised his arms above his head as if to surrender. He knelt, and you let out a shuddering cry of your own as you watched her begging and pleading. She tried to move between the two men, tears spilling down her cheeks, but the jagged, scarred Rick only came between them, pulling her away almost effortlessly, despite her struggle.

You watched as C-137 pushed the barrel of the gun to his head, his finger tensed over the trigger.

The Rick that had been forced to his knees, looked up at her, his eyes shrink-wrapped in tears.

‘I love-‘ but the sentence was left unfinished, hanging in the air, silenced by the bullet that ripped through him, splattering the wall in crimson. His eyes remained fixed, but his body slumped forwards. Your whole body seemed to shake, the sudden shock of the bullet convulsing through you. She let out a blood-curdling scream, falling forwards, sobs wracking her small frame.

You stumbled backwards, your knees buckling beneath you, as the room seemed to shift. You could taste sick, bitter bile rising in your throat, as suddenly the last piece of the puzzle slotted into place. Your eyes clouded, hot tears tumbling down your cheeks, her screams still ringing in your ears.

Your own fantasies, hopeless dreams of a Rick that held you, cared and wanted you, it had all been yours. This had been your life and he had taken it, snatched it away - mutilated it. The man you thought you loved, the man you thought you knew, he had torn it all to shreds.

It had all been a lie.


End file.
